


Man Out Of Time, Woman Out Of Place

by TheLilyQueen



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Coulson Lives, F/M, Slow Build, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLilyQueen/pseuds/TheLilyQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Natasha realize they may have more in common than they thought. Starts soon after the events of the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers/AN: I don’t own any of the characters other than random OCs, and thank Marvel for letting me play in their sandbox. Some readers used to romance fanfics that center pretty exclusively on the pairing may initially be concerned I’m taking this into triangle territory because of how much a presence Clint is, but that’s really not my thing. In this, Clint and Natasha were a couple for a time years ago, but it’s very much over now and they’re best friends and partners – no more, no less. Rated for language, some sexual content.

‘Forget regret, or life is yours to miss’  
Life Support, RENT

 

JARVIS kept the lights mercifully low as Natasha padded down the hallway of her floor in Avengers Tower. It was barely 5 AM, really too early even for her on a day off, but trying to get back to sleep had proven futile. Perhaps the place had her subconscious confused; she could relax somewhat in her utilitarian quarters on the Helicarrier, and hotel and motel rooms across the world that had ranged from passable to roach ridden, but luxury always meant a mark –or at least a job- very close to hand. And, in typical Stark fashion, her floor was luxurious. Not Byzantinely opulent – that was so not Tony’s style, or hers – but tasteful, high quality, and with all the goodies. Big too – a miracle, in New York City.

“Main level, please,” she said, as she stepped into the elevator.

“Certainly, Agent Romanoff.” After a short, but extremely smooth, ride the doors opened again onto the main living area. Floor to ceiling windows gave a 180 degree view of the quiet, but never sleeping, city and the approaching dawn.

She made her way toward the kitchen in search of tea better than the microwave on her floor could produce, and after a week of living in the Tower was not surprised to find Steve Rogers – Captain America – seated at the table already fully dressed for the day, with a newspaper at one elbow and a cup of coffee at the other. He didn’t seem to be paying the least attention to either though. She let her footfalls get heavier as she entered, not wanting to startle him, and a moment later he looked up.

“Oh – good morning, ma’am.”

She couldn’t help but smile slightly at that. From anyone else the term probably would have annoyed her, but from him it was a show of genuine respect rather than a chivalrous front for the opposite.

“’Morning, Captain. You’re up early.”

She crossed over to the stove and started getting together her tea things, pausing a moment to smell the leaves. The familiar fragrance centered her, and soothed away her earlier irritation.

“Yeah. I, uh, don’t always sleep well.”

“Happens to all of us sometimes,” she agreed, putting the water to boil.

“Can I ask you something?”

She kept her face carefully neutral as she replied, “You can ask, but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

“It’s nothing personal,” he hastened to assure her, looking every bit as young as he really was. “It’s a favor. Would you mind if I asked you to explain things, privately? I like Tony, but…”

“He can take the teasing too far. Anything you want to ask will stay between us, unless doing so would endanger someone. Deal?”

“Deal.”

There was a note of relief in his voice that went right to whatever caring instincts she still had. “You know, I’m impressed by you. I’m not sure I’d be handling it as well if I were the one plunked down seventy years into the future.”

Steve flushed slightly. “Thank you.”

The teakettle started whistling and Natasha, thinking that was probably enough deep conversation for 5:30 in the morning, used the interruption as she started the tea steeping to turn the conversation to their respective plans for the day.

 

* * *

 

One item on her agenda she hadn’t shared with the Captain was to spend some time with Clint. He was the reason, really, she’d accepted Tony’s offer to move in; he’d confessed late one night in little more than a whisper that everything on the Helicarrier reminded him of Coulson, and of attacking her, and he wasn’t sure if the openly hostile agents (not that he blamed them for reacting that way) or the ones who were so obviously trying to pretend nothing had happened were harder to be around. He’d wanted to leave and she was hardly going to let him go alone.

Part of what was coming to be known as the training floor was set up as a firearm and archery range, and she timed her entry there for when Clint would be finishing up his daily session. There were three targets active, set to move in a random pattern across the field, and she watched in quiet appreciation of his skill as – with a rapidfire thunk-thunk-thunk – three arrows hit three bulls-eyes yards apart. He paused a moment, surveying his work, and then glanced over at her.

“‘Morning, Tasha.”

Habitually, she moved to a position in his peripheral vision but not near enough to affect his shooting. “How is the training going?”

“All right, but I’m going to use more targets next time. Need more of a challenge.”

“Showoff,” she teased, getting the expected little puff of pride out of her partner. “And, how are you?”

He let out a sharp breath, and lowered his bow. “Better here. Still not good.” That was an improvement, and she reached out to give his shoulder a brief squeeze.

“Agents Barton and Romanoff, Mr. Stark has asked me to relay that Director Fury is requesting that you and the other Avengers report to SHIELD HQ in one hour,” JARVIS’ calm tones broke in. “You do not need to… suit up. There will be a car ready in thirty minutes.”

There was no immediate danger then, but SHIELD would hardly call them in for nothing. Natasha resisted the urge to sigh. Maybe, if they were lucky, this would be the start of groundwork for an op that wouldn’t happen for a bit at least. Clint needed more time to level out before going back into the field, and much as she was avoiding thinking about it so did she.

 

* * *

 

The Avengers (minus Thor, still on Asgard) arrived at HQ together, and Natasha realized it was a more or less conscious act of solidarity. They were going to look out for each other, even against SHIELD if necessary. A junior agent near the entrance directed them up to the thirtieth floor briefing room, and an elevator ride later they were filing in. Fury was already there, waiting.

Natasha directed her attention to reading Fury’s face and body language. He lacked the signs of extreme stress that had slipped past even his control during the Loki incident, but the set of his mouth and a soberness to his eyes said he was not expecting this to be an easy meeting. So did the way he had his hands held behind his back.

“Please, people, take a seat…”

She picked the chair between Steve and Clint, and was unsurprised to hear Tony immediately go on the offensive from the far side of the table. “Having problems with another of your weapons of mass destruction?”

“Tony…” That was Bruce.

Fury let his good eye sweep across their faces. “I have news, and an apology to make. You were allowed to believe Phil Coulson had died because he was grievously injured and because it would unite you when we desperately needed you to work together. Until this morning the doctors gave him 50/50 odds at best, so I think you understand how serious his condition still is. But he is alive and – barring complications – should stay that way.”

Stunned silence reigned for a moment as they took in the news – several small things that had been bothering Natasha’s subconscious now clicked into place – and then gave way to shouts that nearly shook the room.

“You utter fucking-“

“Director Fury, you had NO right to keep this from us so–“

Natasha’s contribution was a string of fluent, rather creative curses in her native Russian.

“Trust SHIELD, that’s a laugh…”

“Yes, I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t.” Fury said, raising a hand to forestall further comment.

Clint spoke up anyway, voice rough. “When can we see him?”

“Right now. I’ll have one of the junior agents show you.”


	2. Chapter 2

  
_If you only knew what the future holds_  
 _After a hurricane comes the rainbow_  
Katy Perry, Firework

As they proceeded down to the medical facilities, Steve thought, at intervals, Thank God. Thank God. He’d barely known Agent Coulson, really – saying he’d known him at all seemed like an exaggeration next to the years Agents Barton and Romanoff had known and worked closely with him – but it had been enough to like him. To appreciate the man’s character. To find he hadn’t been lost for good, well, Steve could only be incredibly grateful.

The junior agent assigned to escort them, who had a rather young-looking face and a soldier’s way of moving, opened the main doors and once they all processed in led them immediately to the left. SHIELD Medical was brightly lit, almost painfully so, and to Steve the smell of antiseptic hadn’t changed all that much from when he’d been a kid frequently in and out of the hospital.

To pass the next set of doors their escort underwent a second scan of one of his eyes, as well as a fingerprint check. Steve was a bit surprised by that at first, given how many layers of security they’d already passed through, but it made sense on further thought. This ward seemed to house the most severely injured or ill patients, and the medical staff wasn’t required to have more than the most basic combat training.

Various doctors, nurses, and technicians roamed the hallway, which was lined with windowed rooms. Each room had a station out front with a computer screen and chair, and each of those chairs was occupied if the room was. As the Avengers continued down the hall, Steve couldn’t help but peek briefly through the windows. Medical care in the 21st century seemed to involve a phenomenal amount of equipment, though the pieces he could identify were usually much smaller than their 1940s counterparts.

“Hello, I’m Priya… Agent Coulson’s chief nurse.” The voice called his attention back, to an Indian woman who couldn’t have been over five feet tall and gave an impression of carefully contained energy even while seated. “It’s nice to meet you all. You can go in to see him, if you want, but there are some ground rules. We’re keeping him to one visitor at a time for five minutes each for now so he can rest. Secondly, if any monitors alarm and I or one of the doctors say to leave the room, you must do so immediately without arguing or questioning. Understood?”

The Avengers nodded or muttered a yes as they saw fit.

“I know it sounds harsh,” she continued, not without sympathy, “but we really are trying to give him the best odds that we can.”

There was an awkward silence, and Steve spoke up to break it. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She hopped lightly off the seat and took Agent Barton by the back of the upper arm. “Why don’t I show you in first?”

They disappeared through the door, and Steve finally allowed himself to look through the window at Agent Coulson. There was a skin-on-bone tightness to his features that reminded Steve, unsettlingly, of mummies and there were tubes and wires going everywhere, and a clear plastic mask over his mouth and nose. He was alive though, and looked comfortable enough considering. He even managed a small smile when (Steve was pretty sure) he recognized Agent Barton. Feeling a bit wrong about watching further, he turned his attention back to his other teammates.

Tony had leaned against a wall, one foot up on it, and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “I am so replacing those fucking trading cards.”

Steve didn’t even bother to chide Tony for his language. “I’ll sign them when you do.” He wasn’t going to be surprised if he wound up carrying out his half of the promise this very evening. Tony had obscene amounts of money, connections everywhere, and the impatience of a five year old when he really set his mind to something.

Bruce gave them both a mildly confused look for a moment before recognition dawned. “Oh, the… right. Yeah, nice idea.”

Tony gave a small kick off the wall to stand properly. “I should let Pepper know, too… she’ll have my head if she finds out I waited any longer to tell her.” He fished his StarkPhone out of a pocket in his suit jacket, and drifted toward the closest thing available to a quiet corner, sliding down the wall to sit crosslegged before making his call.

Apart from their initial blowup at Fury they had all been remarkably calm, and Steve wondered whether that should worry him despite its convenience. Still, the news was good, if a shock, and there was no point in borrowing trouble. Enough of it found them. It was better to start planning; he made a mental note to ask about how long Agent Coulson was likely to need to stay in medical, and to ask the man himself if there was anything he wanted – a book he’d been reading, maybe. Little things like that helped make hospitalizations a little more bearable, he knew from experience. Steve considered whether there would be any real difficulties in store if they started spending more time here once Agent Coulson was allowed longer visits, and didn’t think so. Communication was so much easier these days. Might Barton and Romanoff decide to move back to SHIELD, to be on hand?

His eyes drifted to the female half of the duo, and what he saw brought him out of his thoughts. It would have been easier to draw it than putting it into words, but more than just being distracted she seemed to have turned completely inward, and look smaller somehow. He had never seen her that way before, not in public. “Ma’am?”

She let out a breath, and focused her beautiful green eyes on him. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine”, she replied, and it seemed close enough to the truth. “Just thinking. I should have known something didn’t smell right.”

“Fury managed to dupe us all,” Bruce said, an edge to his voice. “So, you’re in good company at least.”

That managed to get a small twist of the mouth that might almost have been a smile out of Natasha.

Not long afterward, Clint emerged from Coulson’s room looking simultaneously exhausted and like a hundred pound ruck had been taken off him. Natasha clasped hands briefly with him, and then headed in herself.

oOo

After that life settled back into a routine dominated by training and trying to catch up to the modern world, with the addition of regular visits to Coulson. The agent improved steadily, as if his body had come to some firm decision to live after all. The Avengers threw him a small celebration when he was upgraded to one of the regular rooms, and a larger welcome home party when he was finally pronounced fit to go home two months after his ‘death’. There had been decorations, an eclectic mix of food, and some of Coulson’s favorite music playing just quietly enough to not interfere with conversation. All in all, it had been one of the best days Steve had had since being thawed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, some people may question my taste, but why has no one done a Cap vid to Firework yet? The lyrics just seem so appropriate for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it may behoove me at this point to remind the reader that this is a cinematic universe fanfic. Physical descriptions will be in line with the actors’ portrayals. I’m only marginally familiar with the decades’ worth of (sometimes self-contradictory) comics and have shamelessly used some elements of it and dropped others as seemed to fit and suit my purposes. And… the story wasn’t going to go here, but Cap 2 set pics corrupted me. Per sources the equivalent for James in Russian is Yakov (diminutive form Yasha).
> 
> Also, thanks for your patience to all of you still reading. I plan to update much more frequently over the next couple months, until classes start up again.

Rising above tension below  
Learn from the in-between  
Blinded by trust, asleep to the truth  
Awakened by disbelief  
Somewhere I found strength in my soul

-Machine by Josh Groban

It wasn’t a surprise anymore, not really, but Natasha was still impressed by Pepper’s ability to keep up a conversation involving highly secret info in public by making it sound utterly mundane. “If you ever decide you want to, I’d be happy to have you back at SI,” Pepper said, calmly thumbing through a rack of cashmere scarves in more colors than Natasha was sure she could name. “Erika is very good at her job, but at least so far she doesn’t have quite your ability to anticipate.”

Natasha stifled a smile. “Thank you, but I’m very happy with what I’m doing now and SI doesn’t really have a comparable position.”

“Well, can’t blame a woman for trying,” Pepper conceded, shooting her an impish look.

“Not being boss and employee anymore makes being friends less complicated, too,” Natasha pointed out. It had been awkward at first when all was revealed, Pepper needing to work out the differences between Natalie and Natasha, but definitely worth the trouble of getting past it. Pepper was awesome, and a great companion when they both needed to get away from the guys and the job for a bit. 

Pepper nodded, and pulled out a very light cream scarf. “True enough, Nat. Try this… I think it might be just right for you.”

Natasha obliged, and on looking at herself in a nearby mirror couldn’t help but agree with Pepper’s assessment. The color did wonderful things to her winter-pale skin, which could look washed out, and the fabric was so soft she was tempted to nuzzle it right in the middle of Barney’s. This was why shopping with Pepper was dangerous. She was calculating whether it’d be too much of a luxury on a SHIELD salary, and remembered that she was currently without a best scarf after having to clear out of Oslo so fast last March, when she heard a muffled version of the red alert sound from Star Trek (because Tony) coming from her purse. She fished her phone out, and answered the call. “Hello, Director.”

“Need you to come in… there’s an old project just come back into focus that needs your attention.”

oOo

Two hours, an abbreviated briefing, a box of medium brown hair dye, and long experience packing quickly for missions had Natasha nearly ready for pickup when there was a knock at her door.

“It’s Steve, ma’am.” She just managed to hear.

“Jarvis, please let him in.” She heard the front door of her apartment whoosh open, and called “I’m in the bedroom.”

Steve appeared in the bedroom doorway a moment later, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, and hovered there. “Heard you’re heading out on a solo mission for SHIELD?” 

“Should just be intel gathering,” she assured him. “One of my former associates was spotted in Bern two days ago after a year and a half off our radar. If I know him, he’s long gone by now – I’m just going to be trying to find out what he was up to and see if I can pick up some sort of trail. What happens next depends on what I find.” 

_Yasha, what_ are _you up to?_ News from the area had been suspiciously quiet. At least on initial examination.

Steve didn’t seem entirely mollified, but he was prone to being a mother hen toward his teammates. “And, who is this ‘associate’?”

Natasha returned her attention to the last few items of clothing she needed to fold. She was taking more than she really expected to need, but she had the space and one never knew in her line of work when a business suit or party dress might come in handy. “His name is Yakov, codename Winter Soldier. He was one of the people who trained me, and we did many missions together - the last maybe six months before I left the Red Room. That’s as much as I’m willing to say now.” She hoped she’d be able to say something more – like his current allegiance – at the end of this.

His mouth worked as if to say something, then he thought better of it and went with, “All right. Be careful, and I hope things go smooth over there.” 

“Thanks.” Her black, deliberately nondescript suitcase stuffed full now, she closed it with a satisfyingly loud zip. “I ought to head up top to meet the chopper. Tell the others goodbye for me?” 

“I will,” Steve promised, shifting his weight to his other foot. “One last question, just out of curiosity… how would you describe this guy?”

Natasha paused for several moments before settling on a comparison. An unusual one, but then Steve had a background in art. He’d get it. “Chiaroscuro*.” She hefted her case off the bed and headed for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chiaroscuro – an artistic technique involving the use of strong contrasts between light and dark areas to heighten drama and focus viewer attention


	4. Chapter 4

Man Out Of Time, Woman Out Of Place 

Chapter 4 

 

 

The coldest blood runs through my veins; 

You know my name 

-You Know My Name, Chris Cornell 

 

 

As team leader, Steve was notified by SHIELD every time Natasha checked in.  He kept track of her progress as she arrived in Bern then became increasingly, if quietly, frustrated as every lead went nowhere.  Finally, on a hunch, she investigated a particular hotel.  She managed to get a front desk worker to tell her a man matching Yakov’s description had left a few days before but mentioned traveling on to the Antilles which – per some literary reference that escaped Steve - meant she should, therefore, actually go on to Naples.  Intel there had led her on to Poitiers. 

If Steve hadn’t liked the idea of having a member of his team so far away without backup, the undeniable reality was worse.  He hadn’t missed the hints that Yakov had been active before Natasha was born but didn’t look any older than when they first met, either.  That meant some sort of enhancements, and a higher threat level.  Natasha was an incredibly capable operative though, and seemed confident in her ability to either evade him or play on their shared history.   

At any rate, there was nothing Steve could do beyond charge in like the proverbial bull in a china shop and most likely ruin everything.  The best thing to do, and he was reasonably successful at it he thought, was to set those worries aside and focus on other things.  He cooked twice as much as he thought they’d need for Tuesday team dinner-and-a-movie night but – as always – still wound up with no leftovers.  He finished up the book he’d been reading on the Cold War and started _A People’s History of the United States,_ which sure gave a different view than his history classes in school had.  Clint also offered to teach him some KravMaga, which Steve readily agreed to – other than boxing, he never really had gotten much formal hand-to-hand training. 

Clint turned out to be a good teacher, able to explain things clearly and set a pace that kept Steve learning.  When they’d reduced each other to sweaty, mildly bruised heaps on the training room’s navy blue mats at the end of their third session, Clint also seemed pretty pleased with their efforts.“You’re picking this up quick.”

“Thanks.  You’ve been a good teacher.” 

Clint gave a small shrug, as if to deny the compliment.  “I’ve worked with the junior agents when I’ve been off missions. The first time, Phil was supposed to do it but he got called away at the last minute and they needed someone to fill in.”

“How’s he doing?”, Steve asked. Clint had seen him just yesterday, Steve knew.

“Good.” Clint smiled. “His physical therapist is going to have him start spending some time on the mats and range again. Not a day too soon, either - the stretching and five pound baby weights had him going kind of stir-crazy. And, Fury’s still got him locked out of the network.”

“Agent Barton,” Jarvis’ faintly English tones smoothly broke in.  “You had requested I remind you when it was 5:30 PM.” 

“Huh, that went fast.  Thanks, Jarvis.”  He got to his feet easily and offered Steve a hand up.  “Oughta get going so I can shower before my date.  Round four around one tomorrow?” 

Steve accepted the hand up to buy a moment to think, but it didn’t seem to make him any more eloquent.  “Sure, but, uh, a date?” 

“Her name’s Naima… you might have met her.  She’s a mechanic, does the more regular maintenance on Stark’s cars now Happy’s at SI?,” Clint said, giving him a querying look.   

“I just –“  Steve gave up and started over.  “Well, to be honest, I half thought you and Natasha were a couple.”  It was true he’d never seen them kiss or anything, but he’d chalked that up to professionalism or plain old reserve around a group of people that were still getting comfortable with each other in many ways. 

Clint shook his head and grinned.  “Negative, Cap, but you wouldn’t be the first to think so.  We were for a while, back when, but it didn’t work out.” 

“Sorry.”  

“Don’t be – we’re better this way.”  Clint’s tone was sincere.  “Anyway, need to go get ready.  Wish me luck!”  He loped off toward the door with a grin.   

Something about Clint’s breezy attitude and eagerness to be off to see a girl couldn’t help but remind Steve of Bucky, back before the war.  He rode the wave of grief that swelled up for a moment before managing to smile and say, “Sure – have a great time.”   Those attacks happened less often these days, but hit all the harder for that element of surprise.   Clint disappeared out the door, and Steve set himself to straightening up the few pieces of equipment they’d had out as he finished steadying himself. 

Later, after a shower and change back into regular clothes, Steve started to consider dinner.   The ground beef needed to be used in the next couple days, and that could be hamburgers or meat sauce for pasta. Both options sounded tasty, and he was still contemplating which to go with when his cell phone rang. He quickly stuffed the still wrapped meat back in the refrigerator, then fished the phone off its spot on the island. The display read ‘unknown number’, but he hit the button to accept the call anyway.

“Rogers.”

“Are you alone?” It was Natasha’s voice, and Steve felt unease start to gnaw at his belly at its abruptness.

“Yes, I was about to make dinner. What’s going on?”

He heard a quiet sigh. “I’m all right, but this mission has taken a twist and I think I need you here. For now, would you ask Tony for the use of his jet and meet me in Paris on a false flight plan? The team can know, but tell SHIELD he offered a while back and you decided you wanted to see postwar Europe starting from Rome.”

Spies. He closed his eyes a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose, debating whether there was any point in asking for more intel now. “All right. But I want to know everything you do, including why you’re wanting SHIELD out of the loop, as soon as we’re somewhere secure.”

“Of course,” she promptly agreed. There was an almost uncomfortable beat before she added. “Thank you for trusting me on this.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll get it set up as soon as I can. How should I let you know when – and where - to expect me?

She rattled off a phone number, they said their goodbyes, and Steve got starterd on his preparations.

oOo

Traveling Stark style was strange after bare-bones military transports and crafts out of a science fiction comic, but he had to admit there were benefits. The very friendly flight attendant kept him supplied with whatever he might want to eat or drink, the entertainment system had a dizzying array of movies, and there was an equally dizzying array of e-books accessible through a StarkPad.   Certainly more convenient for travel than carrying a full library around, even if he still preferred real, paper books. Neither the movies or the books seemed able to hold his attention for very long though against the question of why Natasha had asked him to do this and why she was being so cagey (even by Natasha standards).

He landed at a small private airport just outside Paris a few minutes ahead of schedule, and didn’t immediately see Natasha. As he considered his next move, she appeared alone with her hair in a perfectly tamed updo and dressed in a uniform he’d seen on chauffeurs or private security.   A bit of small talk later, and they were in a car.

Three changes of vehicle later, she led him into a safehouse. Steve was glad to finally be there, as he’d felt his temper growing short during the drive from too many hours traveling and Natasha’s reluctance to explain anything in the car.

He followed her in, well-worn duffle over his shoulder, as she set her purse down on a side table near the door and shucked off the suit jacket and cap she’d worn. Once she did he saw a wide, clean bandage around her upper arm.

“Natasha – you said you were fine.”

“I am. It was practically a graze. Clean knife wound, five stitches I did myself.”

“Courtesy of Yakov?” He knew it came out more angrily than intended, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He set his duffel down and came closer to get a better look. Both at the wound, and Natasha’s face.

“Yes.” She pursed ehr lips slightly, and flicked her eyes up at him. “Steve… this is going to sound insane, but, seeing him again after so many years and the catching up I did on your history once you were found… I think Yakov is James Barnes. Bucky.”

 

* * *

 

Please join me, if you like, at http://xthelilyqueenx.tumblr.com/  

 


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